


the girl and the piano

by flightlesscrow



Category: Original Work
Genre: Emotions, Feelings, Music, Piano, Poetry, Writing, i wrote this two years ago but still love it and i want to share it, it was once on tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-15 23:26:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11816397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightlesscrow/pseuds/flightlesscrow
Summary: As she strikes the keys; ivory and black as dark as night,In front of audiences of 1 or 1,000,All she wants is for them to feel as alive as she does.





	the girl and the piano

The sound washed over her in waves.

Every chord struck one in her own soul;

Every high note hit reverberated in every cell in her body;

Every low chord echoed deep within her being.

 

And she loved it.

 

This was the one time she could feel alive.

The one moment she was set free from the burdens tied around her wrists and ankles, dragging her down.

In this second, she was alive.

More alive than she had ever been, in fact.

 

She was soaring; higher, higher, higher,

As the tempo increased, she flew higher, as free as a bird.

As the tempo decreased, she floated back to earth, like a feather floats softly through the air.

It was the best feeling she ever felt.

 

The melody sent her heart in a frenzy,

The harmonies kept her grounded.

She was on top of the world.

Nothing could bring her down.

Not as long as she had her songs and her piano.

 

The bridge was always her favorite part to play.

Whether it sped up, slowed down, or didn’t change beat at all,

It was always the most emotional part of the song.

 

She poured out her heart into those bridges, into those songs.

She wanted to make people feel something with her music.

Joy, sorrow, despair, longing, anger, bitterness, melancholy,

Whatever is was, she didn’t care; she only wanted them to  _ feel. _

 

As she strikes the keys; ivory and black as dark as night,

In front of audiences of 1 or 1,000,

All she wants is for them to feel as alive as she does.

When she writes, yes the songs are for her, but more so, they’re for the world.

 

Countless nights spent pouring over pages in a room lit only by the dim yellow of her desk lamp,

It’s where she feels at home.

Nothing is as beautiful to her than that little, cramped room,

With her Grand Piano, small desk, and papers scattered across the floor.

Pencils and pens play hide-and-seek, waiting to be found.

No place is more beautiful to her than this.

 

It’s where she makes her breath-taking, awe-striking, heart-wrenching ballads.

As the music flows from her through her pencil tip, 

Onto her paper,

Lyrics and notes alike.

It’s home; it’s heaven; it’s bliss.

 

The sounds she composed washed over them in waves,

Every chord struck in their souls;

The high notes reverberated in every cell in their bodies,

The low notes echoed deep within their very beings.

 

Her audience loved it.

 

And so did she.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this two years ago and posted it on my old tumblr, which is no longer available. i just remembered it tonight and wanted to post it. so here it is. 
> 
> poetry is not my strong suit and most likely never will be, no matter how much i wish i could spin words into metaphors that are both powerful and delicate at the same time. 
> 
> so any feedback is appreciated. please tell me what you thought of this!
> 
> you can leave a comment or message me through any of the pages below
> 
> tumblr: flightless-crow  
> instagram: flight.less.crow  
> twitter: teaandkookies


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